It has come to my realisation that being a teacher is a tough job – especially when I’m assigned as the person of contact in which I have to be responsible for the students’ progress. It might all sound very academic, but as I get to know my students one by one, I become quite attached to them.

The first week is usually the toughest. The students will have to adjust themselves to the campus environment. Some have no problems in doing so, while others might feel overwhelmed. There are also those who are not confident with themselves, and they don’t have anyone to talk to, and this is where I step in.

There are those who are stubborn and sometimes they try to test me – see how far I can go until I lose my temper. This is the time when I have to be extremely patient – they are boys after all, and they don’t really know me that well yet, and neither do I. These things take time, and effort too.

I personally don’t like to be mean and strict, but most times it leaves me no option. With boys, there is a different approach. When we tell them nicely that they need to improve, they won’t listen. They’ll only do it when they see me being totally pissed off.

It kind of reminds me of Micah, in a way. Repetition works. But sometimes I worry what will happen by the time they finish the course. Who’s going to guide them? Tell them they need to improve? Encourage them and make sure they believe more in themselves?

I also wonder why I have so much faith in them. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I’m too naive, because the students don’t think they’re good enough, therefore they don’t want to try their hardest. When exams are nearing, I can only hope that they can make it, and I keep telling them to push themselves hard up to the point when they can’t take it anymore. Because that’s the moment when they finally know that they’ve worked hard. And hard work will always reap something good.

That’s what I believe, and I hope my students believe it too. Unfortunately, only some do.

Week by week, as a teacher, it is my personal pride to see them grow. And it is my heart being broken to see some resisting to improve.

When they succeed, I feel joyful.

When they fail, I fail too.

And today, I saw both happened.

So I cry on my own, crying of my own failures. Crying because I feel useless.

Being a teacher is a tough job. But one’s gotta do it. And that person is me. So to motivate myself, I attach something nice for me to read, whenever I feel down. And I’d like to share it with you as well.

THE CREATION OF THE TEACHER

The Good Lord was creating teachers. It was His sixth day of ‘overtime’ and He knew that this was a tremendous responsibility for teachers would touch the lives of so many impressionable young children. An angel appeared to Him and said, “You are taking a long time to figure this one out.”

“Yes,” said the Lord, ” but have you read the specs on this order?”

TEACHER:

…must stand above all students, yet be on their level
… must be able to do 180 things not connected with the subject being taught
… must run on coffee, coke and leftovers,
… must communicate vital knowledge to all students daily and be right most of the time
… must have more time for others than for herself/himself
… must have a smile that can endure through pay cuts, problematic children, and worried parents
… must go on teaching when parents question every move and others are not supportive
… must have 6 pair of hands.

“Six pair of hands, ” said the angel, “that’s impossible”
“Well, ” said the Lord, ” it is not the hands that are the problem. It is the three pairs of eyes that are presenting the most difficulty!”

The angel looked incredulous, ” Three pairs of eyes…on a standard model?”

The Lord nodded His head, ” One pair can see a student for what he is and not what others have labeled him as. Another pair of eyes is in the back of the teacher’s head to see what should not be seen, but what must be known. The eyes in the front are only to look at the child as he/she ‘acts out’ in order to reflect, ” I understand and I still believe in you”,
without so much as saying a word to the child.”

“Lord, ” said the angel, ” this is a very large project and I think
you should work on it tomorrow”.

“I can’t,” said the Lord, ” for I have come very close to creating something much like Myself. I have one that comes to work when he/she is sick…..teaches a class of children that do not want to learn….has a special place in his/her heart for children who are not his/her own…..understands the struggles of those who have difficulty….never takes the students for granted…”

The angel looked closely at the model the Lord was creating.
“It is too soft-hearted, ” said the angel.

“Yes,” said the Lord, ” but also tough, You can not imagine what this teacher can endure or do, if necessary”.

“Can this teacher think?” asked the angel.

“Not only think,” said the Lord,. “but reason and compromise.”

The angel came closer to have a better look at the model and ran his finger
over the teacher’s cheek.

“Well, Lord, ” said the angel, your job looks fine but there is a leak. I told you that you were putting too much into this model.
You can not imagine the stress that will be placed upon the teacher.”

The Lord moved in closer and lifted the drop of moisture from the teacher’s cheek.
It shone and glistened in the light.

“It is not a leak,” He said, “It is a tear.”

“A tear? What is that?” asked the angel, “What is a tear for?”

The Lord replied with great thought, ” It is for the joy and pride of seeing a child accomplish even the smallest task. It is for the loneliness of children who have a hard time to fit in and it is for compassion for the feelings of their parents. It comes from the pain of not being able to reach some children and the disappointment those children feel in themselves. It comes often when a teacher has been with a class for a year and must say good-bye to those students
and get ready to welcome a new class.”

“My, ” said the angel, ” The tear thing is a great idea…You are a genius!!”
The Lord looked somber, “I didn’t put it there.”

This January, the rain has been painting my days in a wet and grimy mood. The cool air, the strong breeze, the white, muted skies and the sudden flourish of water that pours in the afternoon somehow reminds of Melbourne.

I spent six years of my life there, and I finally came back to Indonesia six years ago. And yet, sometimes I’m reminded of it in ways that I don’t think are possible.

Like the time when I drive home, when the traffic is insane and there are massive container trucks surrounding me. When I look up to the skies, I’m reminded of Melbourne in winter time. It is the same, grey sky that froze my cheeks and numbed my fingers. I remember the time when I used to take drives with my host sister in the almost empty freeway, a privilege that I don’t get to experience here, except for the odd Saturdays when we have to come in.

Like the time when I walk out of the office building to my car, and the cool breeze blows so softly through my hair, and I’m reminded of Melbourne in summer time. How the breeze in the evening felt so nice in contrast to the humid, hot air that scorched us all the way through the day. I’d always loved Melbourne’s summer evenings. Especially the short walk that I always took from the station back to home in Camberwell, where the street was quiet and the trees stood tall and shadowed the lights, making the whole atmosphere somewhat mystic and peaceful.

Like the time when I take a break from checking on the piles of the students’ homework and look out through the window to the office’s surrounding garden that is quite nice and green, and I’m reminded of Melbourne’s Botanical Garden and of the frequent sights I used to see of office workers taking their breaks there, lying around on the grass reading the newspaper and enjoying the warmth of the sun, their take-away lunches sitting not far from them.

I heart Melbourne with all its crazy four-seasons-in-one-day weather, with the hustle and bustle of the city, with the quietness of Camberwell, with the hip and happening crowds in South Yarra, with the lushness of the gardens that were scattered all over the city and the individuality of the people, with the train trips I used to take to the city and to the university, even to zone three areas where it was barren and full of suburbian houses, Blockbusters and small shopping centres with Safeways, McDonalds and Big W’s.

In this present time, I still feel that the me that I remember then is still there, but she’s not quite here. Even though back then I probably felt that I didn’t quite belonged to the way the people lived, even here, back in Indonesia, I still don’t feel like I do.

I wonder what is the place where I can truly feel like I belong.

Because deep down, I still want to go home.

I haven’t read such a good novel in a long time and I’m definitely sure this is it. Surprisingly enough, I’ve never read Dee Lestari’s previous novels, and I’m really amazed by her talent in writing because Perahu Kertas is unputdownable as it makes me laugh, cry and feel inspired.

The story itself is a simple one; a love story between a petite girl called Kugy who wants to write fables, and Keenan, a bright student with the passion to paint, and yet he is forced to leave his dreams because his father disapproves of it. They both find similarities and solace in each other because they know how it feels like to want to do something and forced to leave it behind simply because it is perceived to be too pompous and unrealistic.

What really captures me is the way Dee writes the story – it flows so easily, and the characters are strong and vivid in a way that I can relate to; Kugy’s strangeness in the way she dresses, and how she doesn’t care what people think about it, and yet it all changes when she meets Keenan. How Kugy is touched when Keenan has painted her fable’s characters beautifully that she actually cries in front of him. How Keenan misses Kugy even though he hasn’t seen her for years, because she knows him so well and so does he. How Kugy is disappointed in Keenan’s decision to stop painting which makes her feel alone and in turn makes her stop reliving her dream too.

For me, not many writers have successfuly created such a good connection between two people who love each other. Not many writers actually know the concept of soulmates and are able to put it in writing, not even Stephenie Meyers who’ve written the Twilight trilogy. Although the concept of a clumsy female human falling in love with a perfect-looking vampire is interesting, but it’s not something I can relate to. The reason that the male vampire falls in love with her because she’s the only person in which her mind he can’t read is just too shallow a reason.

Dee, on the other hand, has done it so beautifully, I feel as if I’m reading my own feelings. She knows that the concept of a soulmate exists because a person finds his or her reflection from his or her soulmate. When Kugy meets Keenan for the first time, she feels as if she’s known him for ages, despite now knowing each other at all. This is due to their  being in the same path that leads them to make the decision; to pursue or not to pursue their dreams.

In this simple love story, the readers are taught not to forget their passion and to appreciate the value of friendship and family. It also teachers the readers about love. True love doesn’t require each other the need to even ask, because it will give so willingly without being requested to do so. It will not work with second best choices, because it will only hurt each other in the end.

I highly reccommend this book to everyone of all ages who wants to be inspired and reminded about love.

]]> http://therrysays.com/2010/01/perahu-kertas/feed/ 2 http://therrysays.com/2009/12/the-haunted-academy/ http://therrysays.com/2009/12/the-haunted-academy/#comments Sun, 06 Dec 2009 14:19:25 +0000 therry http://therrysays.com/?p=1157

The recent news about the pocong sighting that has been going around for the last couple of days kind of remind me about the supernatural activities at work.

Umm, yeah. Apparently we have ghosts at work. As in, more than one.

When I first started working there, I never believed or thought much about it. Mostly because I had never had any first encounters with such supernatural beings, and despite the fact that people around me seemed to have various experiences with these beings, I was fortunate enough to not ever notice them.

Students claimed that they had been disturbed on several occassions by a floating girl in a red dress.

One heard the water running in the bathroom in the dead of the night and when he went to check it out, there was a girl in one of the shower cubicles wearing (guess what) a red dress.

The same girl was seen by another student studying at the Lido, turning pages after pages of a book.

One female student said she was being followed by a big, green creature who demanded for coffee, so she put some coffee on top of her cabinet at the big, green thing stopped bugging her soon enough.

A class was taking a photo during a break and they captured a baldheaded person who looked like he was in his thirties, smiling and everything. No, this person was not one of the students. I saw the photo too and was baffled because I knew what all my students looked like and I would never not recognise anyone from a whole class, despite having to teach many.

I accused them mildly for photoshopping the photo but they were adamant that it was downloaded straight from the camera.

On several occassions, I was teaching in one of the classes called Oak Room and the slide had rolled up by itself. I happened to have my back facing it, so I was confused when some of the students went very pale and they were pointing at the slide but not  being able to say anything. I thought this was some sick joke the students were playing, so I demanded the remote control, and they said it was right at the teachers desk, in one of its drawers.

The highlights of my semi-supernatural experiences (I am still somewhat half-denying their existence) came during the Indonesian Independence Party last August.

Everything was going great, I took lots of pictures with the students, and everyone was out at the soccer field watching the band and having a great time dancing and being mildly drunk. I had been drinking lots of bottled tea so I had to pee. Off I went to the Teachers toilet inside, and there was nobody at all in the Teachers Room, nor in the toilet. I wasn’t even thinking of ghosts then so I did my business as usual and went back outside. It was ten o’clock in the evening.

An hour later, I decided I had enough and I wanted to go home. I said goodbye to everyone, made sure I got all my stuff together from the Teachers Room and went out to the parking lot to my car. While I was warming up the engine, I had the sudden urge to pee but some very strange reason I felt a bit too freaked out going to the toilet by myself.

So I dragged Sally, one of the teachers that I felt quite close with and asked her to accompany me. She obliged even thought I knew she wasn’t too keen on the idea because she was much more freaked out about the ghost thing than I was.

While she was waiting for me outside of the cubicle, we were having idle chit-chats. Suddenly we heard a high-pitched giggle which sounded like it was coming from outside of the toilet.

Both of us went very quiet and a few seconds after I said, “Uhm. Sal, what the hell was that?”

And she was like, “Idon’tknowjusthurrythefuckup.”

I was sort of shaking and freaked out (ok I was scared shitless) so I finished quickly, attemped to wash my hands but Sally was already running outside as fast as she could. So I was running as well and we were both screaming and running like crazy.

I felt quite guilty for asking Sally to accompany me but I was still adamant it was not a ghost. It sounded like a noise that could be played from a mobile phone. But then Sally said while she was waiting for me she saw some dark shadows reflected through the mirror and when she tried to look further (through the mirror) there was nothing there.

Up until this day, I still feel weird about the whole toilet thing.

So how about you, any supernatural encounters at work?

For me, it is a time in which I will be truly tested.

Everyone at work had told me that the day would come for me to…

Arrange the party! Gaaaaaah!

Since it is Christmas and we do have Christmas parties on board our ships, it is normal that we should have one at the academy. And I am appointed to make this thing happen. The thing is, I don’t make parties. Hell, I don’t even do parties. I’m not a party person. I’m more of a stay-at-home-with-a-good-book kind of person. Parties make me nervous.

But it doesn’t seem like I have any choice on this matter.

For the past three weeks,  I’ve been coming home late because all the party preparation can be discussed with the students during after-class hours only.

On normal seasons, our academy usually has around one fifty students or more, but this is our busiest season yet as we have eight classes currently running and two more are coming next week.  There will be approximately two hundred and sixty people turning up at the Christmas party and worst of all is that we cannot hold the party outdoor like we used to since it is the rainy season and all.

So the venue will be at the Lido (our eating area) and lobby, which can only occupy half of the number of the students, plus we have a stage to be set up on the day.

For your information, I have never, ever organized any public events. At all.

I’m not a people person, I don’t know how to delegate, and the thought of having two hundred and sixty people all huddled up in Lido area with only five ceiling fans running really freak me out.

Worst still, all the other teachers at work have been too busy with their own projects – which is totally not their fault since we have eight classes running everyday and some of them have to teach combined classes. Luckily there are some who are still willing to help me.

Our biggest problem yet is dinner time. As I’ve said before, the Lido area can only occupy half of the students and staff. And to make matters worse, the big boss wants it to be a nice dinner where everyone is sitting down and be served a nicer-than-usual-dinner.

I proposed nasi goreng and fried chicken.

He said, “Nay. We’ll have steak.”

And he decided this after I proposed the budget, in which he disagreed to change.

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!

So steak it is, for dinner. We’ve also surveyed the students who don’t eat meat and provide chicken steak for them. Don’t ask me about the budget. I really don’t want to talk about it and honestly, up to this point I don’t really care.

The Lido and lobby area has been decorated by the students who have worked their ass off until past midnight, in which I am so thankful, and I am giving full authorisations to all my clerks students to do the important tasks such as getting the prizes for bingo and raffles, managing drinks orders, dinner and snacks, security, class performances and decoration.

I must say, after the decoration has been set and the dinner menu has been decided, the thing that worries me the most turns up to be the event itself. We want to make sure everything runs on time and on scheduled. I’ve appointed one clerk to be the event controller for the schedule and the class performance.

The rundown of the event has been made, but still it worries me a lot to think that anything can happen and it might ruin the party. Students can get drunk, they can mess up their timing for class performances, dinner serving might take longer time than usual, Bingo sessions might stuff up, power failure, etc., etc.

Let’s just hope for the best as we have only four days left to prepare everything. Meanwhile, to reduce the stress (mainly mine), I hope you enjoy the cartoon below.